By His Play

13. Effie

13

EFFIE

M y heart is racing and my hand trembles as I lift my cell to my ear and wait.

I hate calling my parents. But it’s definitely preferential to seeing them. That’s a whole level of hell I don’t need in my life.

My body locks up as the first ring pierces through my ear. Kieran hears it too, because his hands tighten around my free one.

One of the nurses at the care home offered to make the call for me. Kieran did as well only minutes ago. But this is something I need to do.

I don’t know why; it’s going to cause me even more pain, but I’m doing it anyway.

It rings and rings, and I start to think that I’ve psyched myself up for this conversation for no reason when it finally connects.

There’s a part of me that expects the soft voice of his assistant to fill the line. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s pawned me off on her, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. But to my surprise, Dad’s voice hits my ear.

"I’ve got a meeting in two minutes,” is his greeting.

My teeth grind with irritation as disappointment floods through me. I don’t know why I bother to hope that each time will be different. A deep growl rumbles in Kieran’s throat. I know his face is going to be tight with anger, but I can’t look at him for fear I’ll burst into tears again.

Be strong, Effie. You can do this.

“O-kay, well…I was just ringing to tell you that Grams p-passed in the n-night.”

Letting the words flow past my lips is akin to pulling my fingernails off. But I’m proud that I managed it with only a few emotional stutters.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll instruct Sharon to make the necessary arrangements.”

My chin drops at his coldness. It was to be expected, but still, I’m shocked.

Straightening my spine, I roll my shoulders back, ready to do something I’ve never done in my life.

Stand up for myself.

Or maybe for Grams; I’m not sure.

“No,” I force out. Surging to my feet, my hand slips from between Kieran’s and I begin pacing. “Sharon isn’t planning Grams’ funeral. She never met her. You don’t even know what she wants, so there’s no chance Sharon will.”

There is nothing but silence down the line.

Good. I hope I’ve knocked him on his ass.

“I’ll be planning Grams’ funeral,” I state, leaving no room for argument.

“Fine,” Dad says. “Just send me the invoices.”

The laugh that erupts from me doesn’t sound like my own.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll just send you the date. Enjoy your meeting.”

Both my hands are trembling violently as I lower my cell and hang up.

My chest is so tight I can barely breathe.

But I did it.

I stood up to my father, and for once in my life, I didn’t let him steamroll over me with his own bullshit.

“Effie,” Kieran breathes, moving closer to where I’ve stopped in the middle of the room. “I’m so fucking proud of you,” he says, engulfing my small frame in a hug.

I suck in a deep, steeling breath as I replay the events of that short phone call in my mind.

“He was going to have Sharon plan it,” I whisper in utter disbelief.

I had every suspicion that he’d just throw money at it and make it go away. But to pass the entire thing off to his assistant...

“I know,” Kieran whispers. “You did so good, though. Grams would be so proud of you.”

I can’t help but smile. It feels alien after the last few hours of complete misery.

“She’d want me to do this for her.”

“Absolutely. You’re doing the right thing.”

I give myself a few minutes to allow the adrenaline from that phone call to lessen, then I tap in the number of Grams’ lawyer and lower myself back to the couch.

“What do you mean, she’s planned it all?” I balk after the person I’m talking to has pulled up Grams’ files.

“It’s all here. Everything she wants. Her casket, her flowers, the songs, and readings. It’s all been paid for.”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish as I try to process what I’m hearing.

“All you need to do is arrange the date and let family and friends know,” she continues.

“Wow,” I finally breathe. “When?”

“A year ago.”

That was before her health really declined.

She knew.

She knew what was coming, and she did this.

She did this for me.

Tears burn my eyes, and my nose itches with emotion.

Shaking my head, I fight to find something to say.

“We also have her will here,” the lady on the phone informs me softly.

“O-okay.”

“Would you like to book an appointment for it to be read?”

“Umm…yeah, I guess.”

Honestly, Grams’ will has been the last thing on my mind.

“Shouldn’t my father be there for that?” I ask. Technically, he’s her next of kin, not me.

“Effie, your grandmother made her wishes very clear. If you’d like your father to attend with you, then that is your choice, but there is no need for him to be here. Just you.”

My heart rate picks up.

Grams, what have you done?

After agreeing on a time, I finally hang up the phone after she’s promised to email me with all of Grams’ wishes.

“Is everything okay?” Kieran asks, not able to hear the details of that call as easily as the one with my father’s booming voice.

“She did it all,” I say in disbelief. “Planned it, paid for it, everything.”

Kieran shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Of course she did. I don’t know why we didn’t see that coming.”

“Yeah,” I agree. It really is a Grams’ thing to do.”

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I nod, although it’s not the real answer. I’m not okay, I’m not sure I ever will be again, but I feel better now I’ve gotten through speaking to Dad, and having Grams lift the weight of planning everything myself sure helps.

“Are the buns ready to eat?” I ask, knowing it’ll make him happy. I’m not hungry, but he’s right; I need something.

His smile grows. “Yes. Stay right there,” he says, pointing to my place on the couch before rushing out of the room.

I listen as he crashes around in the kitchen, taking in my surroundings.

This place has been home to me for so long. I’m not sure how I’m ever going to get it ready to sell. How am I going to decide what to keep and what to get rid of?

Her entire life is under this roof. How do you just dispose of that?

W e spend the rest of the day sitting on the couch and reminiscing about old times with Grams. It’s nice, even if it makes my chest ache more than I thought possible.

As the sun begins to set, Kieran announces that we should go for a walk to get some fresh air.

The thought of leaving the house and facing the real world terrifies me, but I know he’s right.

After getting dressed, we head out. It’s a warm evening with the sun casting a soft orange glow on the city Grams loved.

Kieran takes my hand, and together we embark on a walk we’ve done many, many times before.

I know his plan long before the bakery comes into sight. I know him and his scheming ways too well.

“Dinner?” he asks as we approach.

“Sure,” I agree, smiling up at him, letting him know that I can see through him.

He shakes his head before pulling me inside.

“What do you want?” he asks, his eyes scanning the homemade subs like they’re the best things he’s ever seen.

“Whatever. You pick.” I might know him well enough to predict his thoughts, but it goes both ways. He knows what I like, and I trust his choice.

I stand to the side as he orders, and only a minute later, we’re walking out with takeout coffees in hand and subs in a paper bag.

We keep walking. It might appear aimlessly to many, but I know exactly where we’re going.

The thought of what we’re about to do makes my heart begin to race, but it’s nowhere near enough to stop him.

We approach the park just like we did many times as kids.

The gates are locked every night at eight o’clock sharp. They have been for years. It’s to stop kids from getting in and trashing the place. And it works, for the most part.

This park at night has always been mine and Kieran’s place.

I’m pretty sure we were fifteen when Kieran first came to stay with Grams and we scaled the fence after dark. We’ve been nighttime visitors ever since.

We follow the fence around the perimeter until we get to the spot that allows us to break in.

Just like always, my palms sweat, and my anxiety spikes.

I’ve never done anything wrong or broken the law in my life. This is the extent of it, and every time we do it, I’m terrified someone is going to catch us.

Kieran laughs at me as he throws our sandwiches over the railing.

“Ready?” he asks, holding his arms out to help give me a boost.

“Aren’t we too old for this now?” I ask hesitantly.

“Never. We’ll still be doing this in our sixties,” he says confidently.

“Is that a promise?” I tease as I turn my back on him so he can lift me.

His large hands wrap around my waist, and not a second later, my feet leave the floor.

He’s always lifted me as if I’m as light as a feather. Maybe that was true when I was fifteen, but I’ve gained a few curves since then.

“Got it?” he asks as my fingers curl around the top of the railing.

“No,” I cry, suddenly even more terrified that I’m going to break a leg.

He chuckles before shifting his hands.

I let out a shriek so loud a couple of birds take flight out of the closest tree, scaring me even more.

“Kieran,” I cry when his hands land on my ass.

“Just pull yourself over before I throw you,” he warns lightly.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Do you want to find out?”

Rolling my eyes, I make the most of the added height advantage and throw my leg over.

I pray that I’m going to survive this with all my limbs intact. My other leg follows the first, and I jump.

I cry out as I land awkwardly, my ankle rolling painfully causing me to crash to the ground in a heap.

“Oh shit,” Kieran grunts. I don’t look up to see how easily he jumps the railing; it’s just not necessary.

I do see the moment he drops to his knees before me, concern written across his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Twisted my ankle,” I say sadly, pushing myself up so I’m sitting.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” he mutters before falling to his ass and lifting my foot from the ground.

He pushes my sweatpants up my calf before I can stop him.

“Ow,” I complain as his fingers begin massaging my ankle in the most incredible way.

He hits one particular spot, and I can’t help myself, a filthy moan spills from my lips. It’s not a sound I’ve heard myself make in a very, very long time.

His fingers still, and my cheeks burn.

“I think it’s okay now,” I say in a rush as I pull my foot from his lap and gingerly get to my feet. “Shall we go?”